


DarkHearts Society

by underground_archivist



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:42:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/underground_archivist/pseuds/underground_archivist
Summary: DarkHeats Society: If It's Real, If You're Not Crazy, Maybe WE Can Help.Sarah meets some unique friends with similar problems, and they form a sort of therapy group with a secret mission to help others (and each other) on the side.





	1. Chapter 1 Prologue + Chaos @ The Bat Cave

**Author's Note:**

> Note from banshee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Underground](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Underground_\(Labyrinth_archive\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Underground’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/underground/profile).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their backstory. No copyright infringement intended. It all belongs to whomever IMDB proabably says owns it.
> 
> I don't remember what I wrote here. I'm sure it was clever and amusing and informative. I'm just too irritated to try again. Whatever. Technology hates me. 
> 
> Multiple X-overs: Betelgeuse, Drop Dead Fred, maybe Legend later... and a whole slew of 'guest stars' are planned... 
> 
> No spoilers intended, but unless you've seen all the afore mentioned movies, there may be some necessary unavoidable ones somewhere in there that I don't realize. YOu have been warned. 

  
Author's notes:

Rating is for later chapters. I think I lost all my italics when I transfered the text over. :(

HOpe I'm not forgetting anything..... 

* * *

Prolouge  
"You have no power over me."  
...And the world goes crazy, time see-saws and she had won. She was back in her home, Toby safely in his crib, and she had never even gotten to say good-bye to her friends. Apparently she was just supposed to soldier on, forget about the Labyrinth, it's King, and those she came to love and trust. Trying to live a normal life after such an immersive revelation of just how very real Magic-and the Fae- actually were, would be hard on anyone. Right. So how in the hell was a 15 year old girl supposed to cope with that when she couldn't even talk to anybody about it, lest they lock her up? She knew she had no proof, they'd just say she was crazy. ...But if she didn't find a way to deal with this loss, she would go crazy. "For Real" crazy.

Chaos @ The Bat Cave  
She was late. To her own opening. Well, to be fair, it was a 3 woman show, so not only her own opening. Close enough! Must she never find her way out of this irresponsible habit of forgetting everything in favor of haboring impossible dreams? (Really, The Goblin King had probably long since forgotten her, why couldn't she stop day dreaming about him? It was interfereing with her adulthood!)  
The worst part was that she was the only one of the 3 who could even make it tonight. She'd gotten a call frantic for her whereabouts, for the photographer had claimed a death in the family kept her away, and the mixed media artist (mostly crayons, she'd heard) had tried to commit suicide two weeks ago, so apparently her mother had her under "unofficial house arrest."   
Thus, it was all down to Sarah- and she was late. Okay, so it was only 20 minutes, and people never started showing up to unknown artists' openings until at least an hour after the doors opened, but still. She was trying so hard to "grow up" like her parents wanted. She could just see the dissapointment and confusion on her step-mother's face, if she were there now. After the labyrinth, Sarah had reached out to her and let her lead her into a more mature version of herself. It was the most constructive thing she could think of at the time, to distract herself from a grief she could never show anyone. Until she'd started drawing that is. No one questioned her drawing whatever she wanted, so long as she didn't TALK about goblins and magic, she was safe. Then, she'd tried watercolors on for size and had found it lent itself very well to her subject matter. She had let everyone call it her 'hobby,' but it was her strongest method of retaining her sanity. People had even noticed a marked improvement in her. She was less moody, seemed happier. She even had more energy.  
Sarah's reverie was halted by her arrival at "The Bat Cave: a gallery." As she ineloquently burst through the doors (to find a good deal more visitors than she'd expected!), she came to a dead halt. She hadn't bothered to accept the gallery owners' invitation to check out the show ahead of time, in peace and quiet, so she was seeing the other artist's work for the first time. Photographs of every size-from tiny backlit collages of cut up negatives to the 10'X10' monochrome print on t-shirt fabric- covered half the gallery's front area. Ethereal photos, from errie to comical settings, always with painted-on, strange ghost-like creatures. Some were grotesque, some were beautiful, all were striking. She understood now, how a photographer's work could possibly make sense in a show with her Goblins.  
Whoever had hung the show had done a wonderful job. The fading of one artist into the next, the smaller photo-pieces mingling with some of Sarah's smaller, more somber works before they petered out, leaving only The Goblins as the show followed the wall into the second area, where the same 'ombre' effect had been employed only this time, the larger and sillier of Sarah's paintings started to mix with the final artists largest pieces. Wilder characters than even her own made-up goblins (she couldn't just keep drawing only the ones she knew after all), all drawn in an almost childlike fashion but with a skill one would not suspect from the mediums used- she could see why the woman called herself the Crayon Impressionist.   
At the very end, right next to the artist's statement was a final piece, just a 10"X13" hanging out rather aloof from the others. It was a full body portrait, like those kings would commission, and it had obviously had an enormous amount of time spent on it in comparison to the other drawings. Instead of a stately monarch resting upon his throne, though, it was a wild red haired man in a crazy green pirate costume, standing rather Captain Morgan-esque with a sneer on his face. He was in a room with a black and white checkered floor and with bent knee, rested his foot upon a very alive looking, outraged woman's head that sort of sprouted from the ground. In lieu of a title, like all her other pieces, the gallery must have let her scribble in crayon "All my work is dedicated to Fred."  
Normally, Sarah was a strict follower of the 'Do not touch another artist's work without permission' rule, but for some reason, she just could not stop herself from reaching out and touching the strange little portrait, so painstakingly perfected with such a clumsy medium as crayons.   
That's when things went scarily wrong.   
When Sarahs fingers made contact with the surface of the portrait, she felt soemthing. Something she should not have been feeling. It moved. For a split second she thought she'd be handing her rent payment over to the artist for damaging what was clearly an expensive piece of art. After a split second she realized the movement, A) wasn't stopping and B) was not the kind of movement that said "oh, I'm a crayon drawing disintigrating under your fingertips." No, this was a different kind of movement altogether.  
Suddenly the man shot out of the painting, bounced around a few times and ended up flat on his back on the floor of the gallery. He looked around, then yelled "SNOTFAAAAACE!!! WHERE ARE YOU?!?" ...and started looking around. From his current vantage point. On the ground. Sarah was bewildered by the fact that no one else seemed to be fazed.   
"What are you doing?!" Sarah rather alarmedly asked him (not noticing the odd looks this got her from her fellow gallery goers). His head snapped in her direction and his eyes narrowed at her. He stood rather abruptly, and marched over to her.  
"You can see me, can you? I'm here because of you?" His eyes were fierce, but his face was, well, a little silly for a seemingly grown man.  
"Um, well, I guess so? ... I was just looking at the drawings, and I, well, I touched the one of you..." she stammered before he cut her off with;  
"A drawing of me?! Are we in the Lourve?! I always knew I was a genius work of art!" said in such a turn around of attitude, it nearly spun Sarahs' head a few revolutions. He started to flit about the gallery looking for more of himself to admire, only to be disappointed.   
"Well there's hardly anthing here at all! What's with all the BORING scenery!? Drop Dead Fred belongs surounded by only the best! And the Best is Drop Dead Fred, so what gives!?" he flung his arms out to encompass the gallery's offerings and express his exasperation towards them. Sarah's head automatcially followed his gestures' bidding, and looked around the room. To her surprise, many of the pieces were not as they were. Just as Fred had vacated his unassuming 'throne room,' so had othe drawings and paintings-and yes, around the corner, even some of the photographs had lost their subject matter, as if it had never been. Or as if the beings had taken life and climbed out into the real world.   
In fact, as she looked around she noticed some of the other attendees were acting as if something was odd. If she concentrated, she could see blurry figures, that were steadily gaining more corporeal aspects, the more attention they recieved. She turned around, and there was Hoggle.  
He didn't even say anything. His arms were crossed and he was looking at her expectantly and somewhat impaitiently. He appeared this close to tapping his foot.  
Suddenly, Sarah understood. Who else here was equipped to handle a Magical emergncy than her? While she stood there and gaped, things could very well get out of control. She needed to step up and deal with this, instead of waiting for someone else to do it for her. She was NOT that 15 year old anymore. She would do better this time. (Not that her first foray into the realm of magic was a disaster or anyting. Except for that one detail- one detail that was the total disaster her heart and soul had become for many years.)  
Sarah scanned the room, and not seeing the main gallery owner, she made her way quickly to the office, the most likely place. Hoggle and Fred followed her. They both looked worried and pissed off.


	2. 2. SARAH WILLIAMS: BACK IN ACTION

  
Author's notes:

Maybe later I'll come up with a better chapter title. Lol. It's better than the other one I had: Sarah Strikes Back. "What am I, here, Star Wars?!" 

Disclaimer: yada yada I own nothing, no copyright infrindgement intended, it's all in fun folks. You know who it belongs to, and if you don't you can find out pretty easy. You ARE on the internet after all.....

Writing this is going slower than I thought it would.. as in "wow, nothing's really happened yet"..... oh well. We'll get there eventually. I hope. 

* * *

The office was near the front doors, so Sarah made an executive decision, took a last second detour, and locked the doors. It would be best if no one new came in, and potentially for the best if those already in stayed until the situation was resolved. If the crayon chicks' horde of Imaginary Friends were picking new charges that evening, containment would be key (and who knew how the ghosts were getting out, not to mention the stray goblin or two-thanks be that so far, very little of her own work seemed affected.) She really, really hoped anybody who had already managed to slip out with a hitchhiker had signed the guestbook...   
Then she a realized that anyone on the inside could simply unlock the door...  
So she left Fred and Hoggle at the door with strict instructions:  
"I need you two to stay here and make sure no one new comes in. Anyone unaccompanied by former paintings can leave, but if you even *suspect* they've got an extra passenger, keep them here. Can you do that?"  
Hoggle huffed at her, rolled his eyes and said, "Oh please, what do we look like, idiots?" He glanced at Fred, he eyes widened and, "Shut up! Don't say it! We'll do it, okay? Just go do whatever it is you're going to do. GO!" and he sort of shoo'd her off with both hands.  
All Fred did, was giggle and snort-respectively-and wave. "Bye-bye, off you go!" and then he was rubbing his hands together in anticipation of tactics *someone* (poor soul) was not going to enjoy. Pity the next fool who tried to enter that gallery-or leave with the wrong companions.  
"And Do keep panic from ensuing!" she tossed back over her shoulder at them. There was something about that Fred that made her nervous. He didn't seem to have the right attitude about the situation. He seemed a little too puckish. At least if Jareth were here, he'd take things a *tad* more seriously.   
Sarah really wished she'd allowed herself to include that portrait of him in the show. Why, she'd just waltz over and touch it, and there he'd be. Offering her all her dreams again. Only this time the fate of her brother would not be tied to her decision. ...But this was a public show, and that portrait was too personal to share with anyone. If she was going to have to keep the truth of his actual existance to herself, well then she was going to keep him *for* herself, too. Not falsely present him as a fiction like all the goblins she'd met. (She was even stingy about Hoggle- only one tiny but very lovingly rendered depiction of him made it's way into the show.) Some things she'd earned the right to be greedy about. All hers, only hers...  
Sarah shook herself as she came to the office door. She didn't have time to 'What if' herself to death, she had a situation, and she was going to take care of it. She needed to be at the top of her game, what if she *hadn't* thought to regulate out-going traffic?!? What else might she already be missing?  
Sarah was elated to find Miss Lily (as she liked to be called) was indeed in the office nook. Sarah was less excited to find she appeared to be finalizing a sale. (..and wow, she never thought she'd be so mad at a sale that was potentially her own!) In many of the fantasy and sci-fi books Sarah read, the word "ageless" got thrown around and Miss Lily was the living embodiment of it. Her face looked so serene at all times, quite the contrast, Sarah was sure, to the current Urgency(!) that her own was desperately trying to convey without the buyer getting wind. No need to start the stampede *before* a plan was devised.   
After the agonizingly slow transaction was complete and the customer left the tiny room, Sarah closed the door, took a deep breath, and got ready to sound crazy.


End file.
